


Breathe Through It

by Ducks



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: M/M, Oral, PWP, Pirates, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-23
Updated: 2009-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ducks/pseuds/Ducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack gives Will lessons in the fine art of... er... 'breathing through it'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Through It

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 01/13/2004

"JUH! UH CUH BRUH!!!" came the muffled, slightly panicked cry from down 'round Jack Sparrow's nether-regions.

The pirate pried his eyes open and trained them in that general direction, more than a bit annoyed at the interruption, and finding his lover's eyes fairly bugging out of his pretty face, very gingerly gave a tug at the thick mop in which his fingers were tangled as he removed his John Thomas from the boy's hot, wet mouth.

"What's that you say?" he panted.

Will gave him a dark scowl as he sat up, rubbing his aching neck. "I said, 'Jack, I can't *breathe*!' I've told you a dozen times, you can't thrust like that. It chokes me!"

Jack arched a wry brow at the lad's whinging. "And I've told you a dozen more than that -- relax your throat, boy! Let the cock *sliiiide* down, deep and slow. Don't try to *swallow* the bloody thing. It's like trying to shove a whole cow into your belly instead of cutting a nice steak..." He frowned. "Though... I'm not fond of that analogy, on second thought."

The affectionate, well-meaning (and unfortunately oft-repeated) advice only seemed to further enrage his young lover. "Well, I beg your *pardon* if my skills in the fine art of fellatio aren't up to your exacting standards!" he huffed, and bent over the edge of the captain's generous bunk to fish about the dark floor for his wayward trousers... which it seemed that Jack had torn off him only a all-to-brief moment before. "I've only been at it for a few months, rather than the DECADES of practice SOME have benefited from!"

Jack leaned back against the pillows to enjoy the view of his boy's firm, young ass, un-insulted. After all, he *did* give damn fine head (or so he'd often heard) and it *was* due to years of diligent practice. Some of it with the lad's own father, though he never mentioned that bit of information.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head, young William Turner," he assured him, "You suck a perfectly serviceable cock. And getting better every time, if I do say so. It's only the throat thing you need to get down. So to speak."

Will continued to glower, and added grumbling to his little tantrum. Watching him, and thinking of their long months of practicing together since Turner'd joined him full time on the Pearl, gave the as yet unfulfilled pirate a stellar idea. Before the younger man could suspect his randy intentions, Jack grabbed him by the shoulders, and in one smooth, swift motion that would put those buggering Greek wrestlers to shame, flipped the boy onto his back, legs splayed wide as a frame about Jack's own.

His rod was hard as flint, too. So much for his complaints of discomfort.

"Here. Rather than give you another lecture that won't do a bit of good, why don't I simply demonstrate?" he offered magnanimously, "Just pay ye close attention now, savvy?"

Even in the shadows of the cabin they shared, he could see Will's mouth quirk in the first stab of a smile.

"I'll do my best," he agreed. "Since I don't seem able to get the hang of it on my own."

Jack winced. "Could you find another expression to use, son?"

"Sorry."

"It's all right. Now. Take due note the skill of your master," he concluded, and bent to his solemn teacher's duty.

Letting his throat muscles go slack, he took Will's lovely, thick cock down deep in one fierce gulp, running a line of delicate tongue swirls up the turgid length as it went. He felt the broad tip bump his tonsils, heard the lad's startled cry in response, and knew he'd done his duty.

At the very least, his duty to his own tackle, if the lesson could be well learned.

He gripped William's hips with convulsing fingers and began a hard, fast rhythm of tight sucking out, loose, wet and tongue-heavy slipping in. It was only a matter of moments before his lover and protege went board rigid with bliss, dull nails ripping bloody trenches into Jack's scalp, giving a glass-shattering cry that made Mr. Cotton's parrot screech in terror about shivering timbers, and spurt his jiz like a fancy French fountain down the back of the captain's (still quite relaxed, thank you very much) throat.

Jack licked his lips free of the tasty treat, raised his head, and gave the gasping lad a salty grin.

"There, you see? Nothing to it," he declared, then flopped on to his back beside Will, giving his own mast a few affectionate strokes. "Care to try again yourself, love?"

With a sly smirk, Will leaned over to the trunk at the head of the berth, retrieving the bottle of scented whale oil they'd procured on their last visit to Nassau.

"I've got a better idea," he suggested, climbing up to straddle his lover's naked form and pop the cork, pouring a good dollop into his hands before holding up one slick finger. "I think the lessons can wait," he said, giving the digit a suggestive wiggle.

Jack grinned as the hand disappeared, headed down toward his favorite part of Will Turner's hard young body. "Aye. I think they can," he agreed.


End file.
